


Lust

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M, Sex Club, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:44:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Bones has Jim help try out their new server.





	Lust

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for ubiquitouskitty’s “22. sex club ft. Spirk? (Spock/Jim Kirk) extra love if you include Bones as well.” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/161379570810/au-prompt-list). (Round 2 bc I also had this idea.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

With a noise of frustration, Leonard growls, “No, no, no! Stop!” And Spock and Jim reluctantly let go of one another, two sets of dilated, half-lidded eyes turning his way. Spock looks unsure of Leonard’s reasoning, Jim just distracted. Leonard understands; he’s as much of a professional as Jim is in this, and he’s still finding it hard to concentrate. But that’s what he gets for overseeing new recruits himself.

In the backroom of the club, Leonard reclines on one couch, Jim and Spock on the other, facing Leonard across the glass coffee table. Both in full uniform—no more than tiny black shorts and white knee-high socks—the two are turned to one another, legs entangled, Jim’s hands in Spock’s hair and around his waist, one of Spock’s hands tentatively on Jim’s hips. He’s exactly as awkward and stiff as Leonard expected, but not nearly as uncomfortable as he was before Leonard called Jim in. He still can’t believe he’s actually hired a Vulcan. But the rarity and exoticism alone will deliver a return on the investment, even if Spock never gets any better at this.

Leonard directs at both of them, “You’re making out like lovesick teenagers, not grown workers! You really think it’s going to be like that with a client?” Jim, of course, knows better, but he’s too troublesome to do anything but grin. Spock, at least, has the courtesy to look thoroughly chastised. His cheeks have become an attractive shade of green.

He sinks slightly away from Jim, their bare chests no longer tight together, but he doesn’t move his legs from where they’re folded over Jim’s. Leonard hasn’t oiled either one up yet, but their cream-coloured skin is enticing enough in the dull overhead lights. They’ll be ethereal on the dance floor. Jim looks best wrapped around a pole, though he earns even more directly in the laps of patrons. Leonard’s not sure which Spock would be worse at.

While Jim idly pets Spock’s hip and keeps long fingers threaded through his silken hair, Leonard ogles them and thinks. Finally, he decides, “Jim, show him from the beginning.”

With a mock-salute, Jim relinquishes his grip on Spock. Spock’s eyes flicker to each point of contact as they disconnect, until he’s left alone on the couch, and Jim’s wandered halfway across the room. Jim spins like a model on the catwalk. He’s easily Leonard’s best server. He gives Spock a wide, sultry, almost predatory grin, to which Spock just frowns and watches. With a ridiculously lewd sway of his hips, Jim strolls closer. His nearly sheer shorts are already riding low, revealing a healthy patch of golden hair and the hump at the base of his cock, but the rest of the bulge is strapped down and seems to bob obscenely with every step. When he reaches the couch, he puts one hand down on Spock’s shoulder, earning a supple shiver, and then he sinks right into Spock’s lap with ease and grace. Thighs parting, Jim straddles him, and slides right up until their flat stomachs touch. The other hand takes Spock’s other shoulder, squaring Jim in. Leonard has to move to the end of his couch to see around him. Spock’s dark eyes are round with rapturous awe. It’s almost comical—Leonard can’t imagine what it must like to come from such a sheltered people.

Jim’s the exact opposite. He’s the picture of debauchery. He grinds his hips subtly forward as he purrs, “Welcome to the _Enterprise_ , Sir. How can I pleasure you tonight?” All the normal laughter has gone out of his voice—he’s become a sly, sensual minx, and Spock, even though this is merely a demonstration, is clearly caught in his web.

Spock says nothing. But Leonard can see the yearning in his eyes, and suddenly Leonard understands just why this straight-laced, Vulcan-stereotype Academy student was so desperate for this particular job. He must be in some of Jim’s classes. And then he heard how Starfleet’s star pupil earns his credits, and an opportunity to see him outside of class evolved. Leonard almost feels sorry for the poor kid. Leonard knows better than anyone that no one man could ever hold Jim Kirk down. And Leonard wouldn’t want them to; Jim’s his best employee.

Jim, meeting Spock’s longing stare with fierce blue eyes, keeps rocking himself steadily against Spock’s crotch. Leonard doesn’t need to look to know that Spock’s hard. It’s funny to think that just an hour ago, he was skeptical that anything would get a Vulcan cock up. He should’ve known better. Jim rides Spock to an invisible beat, filling the silence with a rhythmic lap dance, until Leonard clears his throat and announces, “Spock—now you try.”

Jim slides right off Spock’s lap, settling onto the couch beside him. Spock’s breathing hard, and it seems to take him a second to process the request, but Jim gives his arm a friendly shove, and Spock nods, rising to his feet. He stands tall, lean, lightly toned: the sort of scrumptious young man any hungry client would pay a hefty sum to paw at. It’s just a shame he doesn’t know how to use it right. His walk across the room is a normal one, devoid of any special flare. He may as well be a robot. And Leonard’s found people pay a lot more for living flesh.

With a thick look of determination on his handsome features, Spock strolls forward again. This gait’s a little different, only no less stiff, just more awkward, like he’s _trying_ to mimic’s Jim’s movements but hasn’t the faintest idea how. When he stands before Jim, who sits sprawled out with casually open legs and both arms across the back of the couch, he hesitates. Jim dons a hungry grin and purrs, “C’mon, baby.”

Spock’s brows knit together in evident confusion. Leonard tells him, “You’ll be called a lot worse.” Jim chuckles. Spock seems to be steeling himself over again.

After far too long a wait, Spock finally bends and twists, settling to sit with both legs tossed over Jim’s thighs, sidesaddle instead of straddling. It looks ridiculous, worse when Spock places his hands on Jim’s shoulders at strangely exacting angles. Jim drops one hand to give him a comforting pat on the hip, then wraps that arm tight around the small of his back, drawing him in. Spock’s breath hitches—Leonard knows that _touch_ is a very intimate sense for Vulcans.

But touch is a part of the job. Spock murmurs quietly, “I would like to welcome you to the _Enterprise._ How may I be of assistance?”

Jim laughs while Leonard groans. This might be a lost cause. Jim doesn’t seem to mind—he puts one hand on each of Spock’s hips and draws them forward, then back, guiding them in little circles—Spock, at least, tries to obey and follow the movements. With Jim taking them through a steady grind, he tells Spock, “How about you put one of those nice hands of yours down my pants?” Spock flushes to the very tips of his ears—a thoroughly endearing, money-making sight—but doesn’t answer. His bow lips have fallen slightly apart, his eyes hazy again as they peer down into Jim’s. Jim holds him fast. Jim slowly slips a hand between Spock’s thighs, then pries them open, and guides one leg over his lap. Spock allows himself to be rearranged, to be opened up and pulled tight against Jim’s body. Then Jim resumes instructing him on how to move his hips, while Bones eagerly drinks in the show.

He could probably sell tickets to this very thing. It isn’t just Jim’s experience or the priceless treat of a gorgeous, half naked Vulcan, but their raw chemistry, so evident in every place they touch. When Jim leaves Spock’s hips to trail up his trim chest, Spock continues to move like Jim showed him, rocking them together. Jim palms his way up to squeeze Spock’s pecs, pausing to thumb the little brown nipples to hardness in the center. Spock shudders, clearly aroused, and Jim goes so far as to duck and flick his tongue over one. Spock’s head tosses back, eyes scrunched shut and throat releasing a strangled little cry. Jim sucks one nub into his mouth, his greedy hands now sliding back around Spock’s body and down into his shorts. Leonard watches Jim spread all ten fingers out across Spock’s cheeks, stretching the shorts, before setting in to knead Spock’s ripe ass. Spock moans and bucks into Jim’s touch, strangely allowing every one of Jim’s sinful whims. This is a special Vulcan indeed. 

But that’s just the problem. The more Leonard watches Spock surrender so totally to Jim, without any real experience or learning, the more he knows Spock would earn him a fortune. And the more he knows he’d be a monster to take it. He can see clearly what Spock wants, and it isn’t to let strangers ravish him the way Jim Kirk does. 

Another few minutes of watching them go at one another and struggling with himself, and Leonard realizes that he needs to end this before he comes in his jeans. Jim would never let him hear the end of it. He grunts, “Stop,” again, and they both comply, though Jim’s hands stay cupping Spock’s ass. They look expectantly at him, Jim now a little annoyed at being stopped and Spock clearly worried. Leonard tells him, “You can work the bar. You’ll have to sell alcohol, Vulcan propriety be damned, but you won’t have to touch any of the customers, and you’ll still have a decent view of the stage.”

Spock, looking pleasantly relieved, nods. Jim’s on stage as often as not—he gives one hell of a show. Leonard can’t believe he’s screwed himself out of seeing Spock on a pole. 

He tells Spock, “Go see Sulu at the bar—he’ll show you the ropes.”

Spock glances at Jim, then reluctantly withdraws, forcing Jim’s hands to slip out of his shorts. He pushes to his feet like a newborn deer too shaken to properly stand, but then he sucks in a deep breath and seems to center again. His face goes blank, his body as rigid as it was when it first came in. He turns and marches from the room without another word, Jim looking thoughtfully after him. 

They’ll have plenty of that for another night. For this one, Leonard grunts, “Get over here, kid,” and starts unzipping his jeans. 

Jim’s gaze returns to him, grinning mischievously. Leonard doesn’t doubt that Spock’s still on Jim’s brain, but Jim still seems to have no trouble slipping to the floor and crawling over. Nestled between Leonard’s knees, he purrs, “Sure thing, Bones. Provided you give me a few shifts at the bar, that is...”


End file.
